


We are using our own skins for wallpaper

by Annakovsky



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-09
Updated: 2005-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annakovsky/pseuds/Annakovsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a week since his father was arrested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are using our own skins for wallpaper

It's been a week since his father was arrested. Logan's trying to avoid the paparazzi and the press by staying in a hotel under the name Winston Churchill, and the strategy's mostly working. He's not going home until the circus is over, even if it means he's here for six months, and the hotel's not so bad. He watches a lot of TV and drinks a lot of Jack Daniels, and tries not to think about anything at all. It's a delicate art to watch TV while avoiding any mention of his father, but he's getting the hang of it. The list of what he can't watch includes, but is not limited to: late night talk shows (Leno, Letterman, Conan, Carson Daly, Jimmy Kimmel, Craig Kilborn, et al), all 24-hour news channels (CNN, C-Span, MSNBC, Fox News, et al), Comedy Central (because they run _The Daily Show_ twenty times a day), E!, all major networks at six and eleven, and Court TV. VH1 was all right until he caught an episode of _I Love the '90s_ where they were talking about his dad's big comeback, so now that's out. Basically he spends his days watching reruns of _The Simpsons_ and _Friends_ until he gets fed up and finds a party to go to and get even more wasted.

He shouldn't be surprised when Veronica Mars knocks on the door to the suite, but he is. "I need a favor," she says all in a rush, before he even gets the door all the way open. He starts to shut it again, but she shoves her foot in the crack and says, "Logan."

"How did you even find me?" he says, before he remembers who he's talking to and says, "Never mind." She pushes past him into the suite. "Please, come in," he says, sarcastic.

She stands in the middle of the room, her hands twisting on the strap of her messenger bag. "Logan," she starts, but he cuts her off.

"What?" They haven't talked since she turned him in to the police and he called her a heartless bitch. He heard that she and Duncan got back together. Well, good for them. That's swell.

"Logan," she says, and she's looking at him in this weirdly tender way that makes him profoundly uncomfortable. He focuses on edge of the door, which he's still holding open. She takes a deep breath. "I want you to know...."

But before she even finishes the sentence Logan can't handle it anymore. "Don't," he says to the door, and then shakes his head, tries to soften his voice. "This is melodramatic enough without any tortured apologies." He looks at her again, sidelong. There's still a greenish-yellow bruise on the side of her face from where his dad hit her, or tried to burn her alive, or whatever it was.

She raises her eyebrows. "I wasn't going to apologize."

He lets out a disbelieving laugh and looks at the ceiling. "Yeah, what was I thinking?" He shifts his weight to his other foot. "So what is it you want, exactly?"

"I'm working this case for my dad," Veronica says. "Your standard cheating husband gig. The guy goes to the same motel every afternoon, so getting the pictures shouldn't be hard. But my car just broke down... so I kind of need a ride."

Logan sighs and shuts the door and leans against it. "What, Duncan isn't available?"

Veronica looks at him. "I'm asking you."

***

They hardly say anything on the drive there, other than Veronica giving directions. She keeps looking at him and trying to pretend she's not, which he ignores. The sun is hot and bright.

They park in the motel lot, facing the doors to all the rooms, which open to the outside. Veronica gets a picture of the guy's license plate and sits back, the camera dangling from her right hand, watching the motel for any movement.

He's always wanted to go on a stakeout, but this wasn't exactly how he pictured it. He wonders if this is how she caught Mr. Kane cheating.

"You're quiet," Veronica says, after eleven minutes sitting side by side in silence.

"Yeah, well, I don't like you very much," he says, and rests his hand along the jeep's windowsill.

Veronica smiles a little and keeps watching the motel. "You wish," she says.

Unfortunately, that is true.

Someone comes out of room 203, and Veronica sits up, but it's not the guy. She relaxes and puts her feet up on the dashboard. Logan rests his head on his hand.

It's still strange to sit in his jeep, just him and Veronica. The car feels empty without Duncan and Lilly in it, even though it's been a year and a half since she died. A year and a half, so shouldn't he be over this by now? He shouldn't still be expecting to see Lilly when he turns around, keep thinking he sees her in crowds.

Veronica's growing her hair long again. He wonders if that's supposed to be fucking symbolic or something.

She catches him looking over and holds the eye contact for a long moment, until he finally looks away. "Logan, are you okay?" she says, in this overly meaningful way, and this question is clearly why she made him drive her out here. She's feeling sorry for him. He doubts her car is even actually broken down.

He ignores the question. "What was wrong with your car, exactly?"

"The ignition," she says, without blinking an eye, but she has that glib expression that means she's lying. Suddenly she sits up straight and starts taking pictures, and when he turns to look, some sleazy guy with a mustache is coming out of the motel. He can see a woman's arm, and then for a second she's in the doorway with Mr. Mustache, kissing him goodbye. Veronica's camera is whirring. As Mustache comes down the stairs, Veronica slouches low.

"But seriously, Logan," she says, as though there has been no interruption. Guess it's all in a day's work for Veronica Mars, P.I., and there are times when he really can't fucking stand her. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Logan says, and wonders why it's taking so fucking long for Mustache to pull out of the parking lot. Is he checking for lipstick on his collar? Combing his walrus 'stache?

"Well, I'm sorry," she says, "but it's kind of been a bad couple of weeks, and you're not talking to anybody, and I worry."

"You WORRY?" Logan says, and for a second he badly wants to hit her, beat her stupid condescending face in, punch her in the neck. When he turns towards her, furious, he sees the bruise his father left, and jumps back so hard his head hits against the doorframe and for a second he sees stars. "Fuck!"

"Jesus, Logan," she says, and he has to get away. He's opening the door and stepping out into the parking lot before he has time to think about where, exactly, he's going to go.

As he walks vaguely off in the direction of the motel lobby, he passes Mustache's lady friend walking down the stairs. Veronica doesn't follow him - he assumes she is slouched low in the car, trying to be inconspicuous.

He goes into the men's room, splashes water on his face, counts to ten. Counts to ten again. Goes ahead and gives in and counts to a hundred instead. Presses gingerly at the lump on his head, decides he's not going to die any time soon. Which is too bad.

When he walks back out to the parking lot, Veronica's leaning against the side of the jeep. She watches him walk over. "How's your head?" she asks when he's close enough to hear her.

"I'll live," he says. "You get the pictures you needed?"

"Yeah," she says. "Look, Logan, seriously. What is going on with you?"

"Goddamnit, Veronica," he says, "if I wanted to talk to a shrink, I'd go to a fucking shrink, okay?"

"I'm not..." she starts, but he cuts her off.

"So I don't need the girl who turned me in to the cops because she thought I murdered my girlfriend to ask me about my feelings."

Veronica winces, and they stand there in the parking lot looking at each other. Logan's breathing hard.

"I don't...," she starts, slowly, then stops. "I was following the evidence. It wasn't personal."

"Whatever," he says, and goes to walk around the car to the driver's side. As he goes past her she reaches out to stop him, and he spins, her hand warm on his arm, and then he's pushing her back against the side of the car with his body, pressing his leg between hers, and he hates her more than anybody, more than Lilly, more than his father, more than his mother, he hates her, he hates her, he hates her. Her eyes are wide, staring at him, but then they flicker down to his mouth, and she doesn't push him away, and when he kisses her she tastes like salt.

He thinks about how it must feel when you step off a bridge, in that moment just before you fall, when there's nothing holding you up anymore and it's a long way down.

***  
END


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